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“Really?” she asks, looking me up and down again. “You seem more of a local restaurant guy.”
“Which proves that you haven’t taken the time to get to know me, Savannah. I’m a ball of surprises. There is nothing wrong with a good margarita from Chili’s, the mudslides at Applebee’s, and there is nothing better than the bread sticks at Olive Garden. Do you really think me a snob? I live in a tent most of the year.”
Fuck, I want to push her up against the wall, kiss her until her lips swell, and bury myself in her as she wraps her legs around me.
“I didn’t think about that. I guess I’m used to my own preferences.”
“Not going to work while we’re roommates. We need to consider each other and communicate more.”
“You’re right,” she whispers. “I’ve been standoffish and horrible to you.”
I act like I’m thinking about it, and I squint my eyes, tapping my foot. I want to make her squirm a little, even if I want to be friends with this woman. Actually, not friends. I want to be lovers with her, but if she’s like most women, you at least have to have the illusion of friendship before they spread their legs.
“Please come to dinner. I’d like you there.”
I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side. “I’ll come on one condition.”
She clears her throat. “I suppose I deserve that for ignoring you for the last few days. What’s the condition?” Is it my imagination, or does she look almost hopeful that I’ll request something so filthy and she’ll be unable to decline?
“You go for a ride on the back of my bike this weekend. We ride out to the state park, and we take a picnic to the overlook.”
There. That should give us some time together so I can turn on the charm and worm my way into those granny panties. Well, she probably wears granny panties. As uptight as she’s been the last few days, I don’t see her wearing a lacy, black thong.
She looks at me, and her panties are temporarily forgotten. Those eyes. I can get lost in them, and they’re the most beautiful eyes of any woman I’ve dated or fucked in years. Maybe ever. They’re not only cosmetically gorgeous, but looking into her eyes is like seeing every emotion she has at once. She’s not a good liar, and she’ll never be able to play a round of poker with me. I’ll see her hand with one look.
“Do we have a deal?” I smirk and turn on my charm that works on every woman. The tilt of my head. Biting my lip a sexy way. Looking them up and down until they burn with their own body heat.
She clears her throat, but she doesn’t look away. Maybe she’s not as awkward as she thinks she is. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle. I’m a little scared. They’re death traps.”
“I’m always careful, and I wear a helmet. I only have one, though, and it’s yours for the ride out there.”
A look of fear crosses her face, and I lean down to her ear. When I’m a centimeter from her skin, I inhale, exhaling only when I speak. “Just put your arms around me and hold on tight,” I whisper. “I’ll take good care of you.”
I pull back, and her face is beet red. I’m not sure if it’s my words or my proximity that did it.
She nods and holds out her hand for me to shake. “Deal,” she mumbles.
October 21- Savannah
I knew it. Of course, it’s a chain. The excited hostess waves us through the door, smiling a perfect grin. “Welcome to Chili’s.”
I think Mom picks the chains because they always have friendly hostesses. She also says that you always know what to expect, and I expect a bigger than usual margarita tonight.
“I love this place,” Wilder mumbles behind me.
I’ve been trying not to look at him. I picked him up after work, and he sauntered to the car with a wry smile on his face, climbing into my car and even giving me a peck on the cheek like I’m a proper girlfriend. The warmth of his lips from that contact is still on my skin, and I touch my cheek like I’m checking it hasn’t left. It was jarring because we haven’t had much physical contact since our date at the Chinese restaurant except for times our hands have briefly touched. It took the entire ride to the restaurant realize and come to terms with the fact that I want more and crave his physical touch. But instead of pulling over, climbing on top of him, and kissing him like a normal woman my age would have done, I stared straight ahead out the window with my hands at ten and two on the wheel like some kind of Uber-driving nun.
He didn’t seem to care and talked the whole way here about his new job, eating at Chili’s because he hasn’t for a long time, and how much he likes living in the apartment with me but wants to buy me new bath towels for whatever reason.
“I don’t see your mom,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts as we search the restaurant.
Eventually, I see the back of Mom’s head at a table with a young guy who looks like he just graduated from high school. “Great, the dude brought his son or something. Come on,” I mutter, slipping my hand into Wilder’s. We need to keep up the ruse.
We approach the table, and Mom and her future stepson stand up. “There you are! I was wondering when you’d get here. Did you ride over on the motorcycle?” Mom asks, looking Wilder up and down and not even pretending to be subtle about it.
“I still can’t get her on my bike, Heather,” he says, leaning forward and kissing my mother on the cheek. “Maybe you can talk her into it. Good to see you again.”
She raises her eyebrows and gets out of the seat she previously occupied. “Here, you two sit next to each other. I’ll sit over here.”
